Flight Risk by Joy Castro EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Joy Castro
- Language: English
- Genre: Family Life Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3 MB
- Price: Free
September 21, 2010 – Nashville, Tennessee
I am dying.
This is it. This is how I die.
And it is humiliating.
I punctuate this thought by puking mightily. The entire contents of my
stomach, and what has to be a good portion of the stomach lining itself,
splash (mostly) into a toilet I’m almost certain I recognize. I vomit until I
have nothing left inside of me, and even then, I keep going—miserable,
spasming dry heaves that leave me hugging the toilet praying for a merciful
death.
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Death has no mercy.
Icy droplets of sweat roll down my back. My shirt, soft and cotton, clings
to the sticky film left behind.
It’s disgusting.
This whole situation is disgusting.
I disgust myself. Right now, in this moment, I am utterly and completely
disgusting.
It’s not my norm, being this disgusting. I’m not a supermodel by any
stretch of the imagination, but I’m also not usually a mole person made of
vomit, humiliation, and sweat. I’d say, on average, I’m a hard six/soft seven
—which, I realize, is not the most enlightened way to think of oneself, but
it’s hard to be enlightened about anything when your head is in a toilet and
your stomach’s acting of its own accord.
I lift my head up and catch my reflection. It’s real rough.
I have a long, thin face, made angular by high cheekbones and a pointed
chin with a vague dimple in the center. My hair falls just past my shoulder
blades in a wild kaleidoscope of browns I should tame but won’t. My eyes,
the color of melted milk chocolate, are slightly too big for my face. Big
enough to justify some self-consciousness, but not so big I can actively
complain about them. My lips, full and a bit top-heavy, are a little chapped
and swollen.
I probably chewed them last night.
Or I could’ve made out with a stranger.
I’ve been known to do both of those things when drunk, and all signs
point towards me having drank epically last night.
To be fair, though, who wouldn’t get epically drunk after their second
night of a three-night run at the Ryman? Especially after they destroyed.
Last night was the best event of my career, by a mile. It would be sacrilege,
sobriety, when the likes of Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and Hank
Williams Jr. performed on the same stage. Far be it from me to defile the
great tradition of people getting wasted after performing at the Ryman. I
mean, sure, I was being hosted by the library, not the Opry, but that hardly
matters.
I have nothing but respect for holy places.
And holy traditions.
And alcohol.
It’s part of why the reason I’m about to die is so humiliating. I’ve been
training most of my life for a night like last night.
The single bright spot in being actively the worst.
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